"Of course." He smiles. "But mostly I made it for you. A girl can't live on pizza alone, you know."
"You'd be surprised." I laugh, cutting into a juicy piece of grilled meat.
While we eat, I ask questions. Taking advantage of the fact that he's barely touching his food by asking all of the things I've been dying to know but always seem to forget the moment be looks in my eyes. Things about his family, his childhood, the constant moves, the emancipation-partly because I'm curious, but mostly because it feels weird to be in a relationship with someone I know so little about. And the more we talk, the more surprised I am by how much we share in common. For one thing, both of us are orphaned, though he at a much younger age. And even though he's a little sketchy on the details, it's not like I volunteer to talk about my situation either, so I don't really push it.
"So where'd you like best?" I ask, having just cleaned my plate of every last morsel and feeling the beginnings of a nice languid fullness.
"Right here." He smiles, having barely eaten a thing but making a pretty good show of moving his food all around.
I squinch my eyes, not quite believing it. I mean, sure, Orange County's nice, but it can't possibly compare to all of those exciting European cities, can it?
"Seriously. I'm very happy here." He nods, looking right at me.
"And you weren't happy in Rome, Paris, New Delhi, or New York?"
He shrugs, his eyes suddenly tinged with sadness as they drift away from mine and he takes a sip of his strange red drink. "And what exactly is that?" I ask, peering at the bottle.
"You mean this?" he smiles, holding it up for me to see. "Secret family recipe." He swirls the contents around, and I watch as the color glows and sparks as it runs up the sides and splashes back down. Looking like a cross between lightning, wine, and blood mixed with the tiniest hint of diamond dust.
"Can I try it?" I ask, not entirely sure that I want to, but still curious.
He shakes his head. "You won't like it. Tastes just like medicine. But that's probably because it is medicine."
My stomach sinks as I gape at him, imagining a whole host of incurable diseases, horrible aftlictions, grave ailments-I knew he was too good to be true.
But he just shakes his head and laughs as he reaches for my hand. "No worries. I just get a little low on energy sometimes. And this helps."
"Where do you get it?" I squint, searching for a label, an imprint, some kind of mark, but the bottle is clear, smooth, and appears almost seamless.
He smiles. "I told you, secret family recipe," he says, taking a long deep swig and finishing it off. Then he pushes away from the table and his still-full plate, as he says, "Shall we go for a swim?"
"Aren't you supposed to wait an hour after eating?" I ask, peering at him.
But he just smiles and reaches for my hand. "Don't worry. I won't let you drown."
Since we spent most of the day in the pool, we decide to hang in the Jacuzzi instead. And when our fingers and toes start to resemble small prunes, we wrap ourselves in oversized towels and head up to my room.
He follows me into my bathroom. I drop my damp towel on the floor, then he comes up behind me, pulls me to him, and holds me so close our bodies meld right together. And when his lips brush across the nape of my neck, I know I better lay down some ground rules while my brain is still working.
"Um, you're welcome to stay," I mumble, pulling away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment when I meet his amused, gaze. "I mean, what I meant to say was, I want you to stay. I do. But, well, I'm not sure that we should-you know-"
Oh god, what am I saying? Um, hello, like he doesn't know what I mean; Like he wasn't the one getting pushed away in the cave and just about everywhere else. What is with you? What are you doing? Any girl would kill for a moment like this, a long, lazy weekend with no parents or chaperones-and yet, here I am, enforcing some stupid set of rules-for no good reason he places his finger under my chin and lifts my face until it's level with his. "Ever, please, we've been over this," he whispers, tucking my hair behind my ear and bringing his lips to my neck. "I know how to wait, really. I've already waited this long to find you-I can wait even more."
With Damen's warm body curled around mine, and his reassuring breath in my ear, I fall right to sleep. And even though I was worried I'd be way too freaked by his presence to get any rest, it's the warm secure feeling of having him right there beside me that helps me drift off.
But when I wake at 3:45 A.M., only to discover he's no longer there, I throw the covers aside and rush to the window, reliving that moment in the cave all over again as I search the drive for his car, surprised to find it's still there.